


Crossover Friday

by Snowy_the_Sane_Fangirl



Series: DaveJade Week [13]
Category: Homestuck, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, DaveJade Week, DaveJade Week 2016, F/M, one of those things that started out as a oneshot and then turned into a monster, read the notes for context
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_the_Sane_Fangirl/pseuds/Snowy_the_Sane_Fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DaveJade Week 2016 - Day Six: Crossover</p><p>Your name is Dave Strider and in theory you understand that surprise attacks need to be secret or they will probably fail, but in practice, you just came out of hyperspace in the middle of a massive battle and this is really not how you imagined your day going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossover Friday

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure I had excuses on Saturday for why I hadn't finished this by Friday night, but I really don't remember what they were. It's been a rough couple of weeks. In any event, here it is now.
> 
> [DeviantArt](http://snowythesanefangirl.deviantart.com/art/Crossover-Friday-620918268?ga_submit_new=10%253A1468213251)   
>  [ff.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12044120/1/Crossover-Friday)   
>  [Tumblr](http://dog-ears-and-shades.tumblr.com/post/147224264809/crossover-friday)   
>  [Wordpress](https://sanefangirl.wordpress.com/2016/07/11/crossover-friday/)

Being a smuggler during a galactic civil war is hard. It’s hard and nobody understands.

Your name is Dave Strider and in theory you understand that surprise attacks need to be secret or they will probably fail, but in practice, you just came out of hyperspace in the middle of a massive battle and this is really not how you imagined your day going. Fortunately, you’re a good enough pilot to respond immediately when you realize that yes, there is definitely a Separatist dreadnought hovering over this planet and there is definitely a Republic command ship across from it, and there is definitely a fighter dogfight going on between the two of them and the only clear word in your head is fuck as you drop your little freighter into what basically amounts to a dive in the vacuum of space and try to cut under the Separatist ships toward the planet. You could just jump back into hyperspace, but honestly fuck that idea. You spent hours sitting in this cramped little ship waiting to get here; like hell are you absconding and spending even more hours sitting here waiting to get somewhere else. You only have enough fuel to make it to the next system anyway, and you’ve had quite enough of that system, thanks. By which you may or may not mean that they’ve had quite enough of you, but that’s entirely beside the point.

You manage to get mostly clear of the Separatist ships before they even notice you, and even when they do notice you only a few of them break off to go after you. You’re not firing on them, but the little fleet of Republic fighters is. If there’s one thing your little freighter has going for it, it’s that it’s reasonably fast and maneuverable, and you like your chances of losing these assholes. Your intercom blinks; they’re trying to hail you, and you think for a minute about not answering, but then you decide that there’s a slim chance it will prevent one side or the other from firing at you if you explain that you’re just a trader. That’s not strictly true, but you’re pretty sure both sides have bigger fish to fry than one little smuggler. You turn on the intercom and a little holographic projection of a battle droid appears in front of you. “Unidentified XS stock light freighter,” it says, in a surprisingly nasally voice for something that doesn’t have a nose. You take a moment to wonder why they didn’t program the droids with deep, guttural voices like a Hutt, or maybe smooth female voices like the Twileks you meet in a strip club. You make a mental note to find someone who’s good at programming the next time you find yourself in possession of a battle droid.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you say, pulling your craft to the right and ducking behind the relative cover of one of the larger Republic ships. Your intercom is flashing again. That must be the Republic calling. Dave’s not available right now, he’s running for his life, please leave a message at the beep. Seriously, though, the Republic is less of an issue. They’ve almost certainly scanned for life forms by now, and know you’re not just another battle droid, and there’s a fair chance that they won’t open fire until they’ve confirmed who you are, or you’ve ignored them for long enough. The battle droids know you’re not on their side and have come to the fairly reasonable conclusion that you’re on the Republic’s side. “Could you maybe call off your death droids?” you ask the droid. “It’s kind of difficult to hold a conversation and avoid getting shot at the same time.”

“State your name, ID, and business in this sector.”

You internally grimace. Okay, so you’re going to do it the hard way. “Trading vessel Fuckslinger, captain Dave Strider, trading.”

“This planet is under embargo. You may not proceed.”

Another fuck might slip out of your mouth. You’re not sure. One glance at your fuel levels tells you that all this maneuvering has taken its toll and you probably don’t have enough fuel to get to the next system anymore. Also, you’re getting paid good money to make this delivery and you are not backing out now. You don’t dignify the droid with a response, just cut him off and key on the other transmission.

“Unidentified XS stock light freighter,” the clone trooper on the other end says. “What took you so long?”

“I was having a lovely chat with the murder toasters you’re fighting. It’s first come first serve here at the Dave Strider buffet. The scrap metal sent a request first, the scrap metal gets talked to first. I suppose you want to know what the fuck I’m doing here too. Nice, that makes three of us.” You pull up sharply. There are a lot of reasons why you support the Republic in the war effort, but one of the biggest is definitely the battle droids’ tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. “Dave Strider, captain of the trading vessel Fuckslinger. I’m here to trade.”

If the trooper reacts to the unusual ship name, it doesn’t show under the helmet. You have got to get yourself one of those. “You’re advised to leave this sector immediately.”

“Yeah, small problem,” you reply. “I’m low on fuel. I definitely don’t have enough to get to the next system.” You can feel him judging you. Sensible people take extra fuel along on every trip, unless they’re broke smugglers who need space on their ship for black market goods, of course. “My tank’s leaking,” you say, trying to redeem yourself even though it’s not true in the slightest.

“Understood, Captain Strider. Prepare to dock on the command ship.” Fuck.

“Negative,” you say. “Negative, the fuel is an older type, very unstable. I need proper decontaminating facilities.” The Republic is more than willing to overlook obviously illegal smuggling operations when they’re in the middle of fighting a battle, as long as you get out of there quickly. You’re quite certain they’re not nearly so willing to overlook a ship full of black market spice attacked to their command vessel.

“The spaceport on the planet has been destroyed. We have hazmat suits and rudimentary decontamination gear.” Well, that really leaves you no choice.

“Got it,” you say. “Thanks.” You swoop downwards, trying to reverse your direction, and activate one of the laser turrets to snipe at your pursuers, who are still firing at you because they’re still assholes.

That turns out to be a mistake. They were firing at you before, but you hadn’t, apparently, been classed as a real threat. When you start firing at them, you’re classed as a real threat and suddenly the potshots they’d been taking at you turn into an earnest firefight. You turn on the other cannon and keep going, but it isn’t enough. You can feel when the shots fired by the droid ships make impact with your shield, and a better shield generator has been on your list of things to get for a long time. You’re cut off from the Republic command ship and forced to double back into more Separatist-heavy space. And when your rear shields finally give out, you’re actually facing toward the dreadnought and a lot closer than you’re comfortable with.

You go into a spin when one of your thrusters is taken out, and it’s all you can do to prevent yourself from falling hopelessly toward the planet below. Beautiful, the moment you manage to go in the general direction of the planet is also the moment you decide that no, maybe the planet isn’t the best option. You adjust the remaining thruster, watching the flashing lights spinning past your window with your stomach in your mouth. finally, they slow and you even out, still facing towards the Separatist dreadnought. There isn’t a lot you can do from the cockpit, so you run down the hall and enter one of the turrets, where you can fire more easily at your pursuers. You blow two of them out of the sky before you suddenly realize that you’re still on a collision course with a much bigger ship and hightail your ass back to the cockpit. You’re close, almost too close, but you think if you angle yourself just so with the help of your remaining thruster...

You clutch the edge of your seat and close your eyes as your ship crashes into the edge of the opening into a hangar bay, hits the ceiling of said bay, and then comes to a screeching halt against the far wall. Your nose is full of heat and sulfur and you can barely hear anything after the way the metal screamed at itself. You blindly scramble out of your seat and lurch out of the cockpit, down the hall, and toward the door. You hit the button and the ramp lowers. You aren’t an idiot. You know what’s waiting for you on the other side, so you come out with your blaster already firing. Literally anything you meet on the other side of that door is going to be hostile, and it’s not like you’re going to give your position away. Your ship already did that for you.

There are three battle droids standing outside the ship, and like the average rank and file battle droid, they’re laughably easy to take down. But just as you shoot the last one down and watch him collapse into pieces, there’s a clattering, rolling sound, and you decide it’s time to clear the hell out of there. You run for the nearest ship in the hangar, but surprise surprise, it wasn’t designed to accommodate life forms. You run past it toward the elevator across the hangar bay, followed by laser bolts from the droids. It’s a miracle you aren’t hit before you make it to the elevator, which opens at your command, closes behind you, and then doesn’t move. Of course. Wouldn’t an astromech be handy right about now?

Unfortunately, you don’t have an astromech. You have never had an astromech. You don’t particularly want an astromech. Another piece of equipment to keep and upkeep and store, and you’ve heard they have a tendency to get personalities. Why the everloving fuck would you want that? You settle for shooting the controls a couple of times and hoping that will prevent it from opening.

Your personal intercom, attached to your wrist, beeps, and you know it’s rerouting a communication that’s being sent to your ship. You click it on. “Captain Strider,” the clone trooper says. “Where are you? We’ve lost track of your ship.”

“I ran up against some complications, and by complications I mean I lost an engine and crashed into the Separatist dreadnaught,” you say. “So that’s where I am, cowering in the corner of an elevator that won’t fucking move while a couple of destroyer droids try to pry open the doors and get at me. They can’t come in yet, stimcaf’s not ready. And I don’t think my ship is going anywhere soon.”

The trooper starts to respond, but before he can say anything there’s a scrambling sound on the other end and his voice is suddenly replaced with a very chipper, very female voice. You can’t see much of the new person. but she must be the Jedi in charge of the ship because she’s wearing robes and there’s definitely a lightsaber clipped to her belt. She’s human, or at least a species that looks similar to humans through a hologram, and she has really long hair that’s loosely tied back. “You’re on the dreadnought you say?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” you reply.

“How familiar are you with Separatist Providence-class dreadnought engine compartments?”

“Why the flying fuck would I know shit about that?” you ask. “Also, this intercom is routed through my ship and they’re probably listening in right now.”

“Just get out of the elevator for starters. Then get to an on board intercom. You know how to scramble signals, right?”

“What if I don’t?”

“Good! I’m transmitting our hail code.”

She vanishes and you’re left with a hail code and a question about how the hell she expects you to get out of an elevator with no way to control it and two destroyer droids outside. But it isn’t like you have a lot of options, so you fucking figure it out. By which you mean you shoot the ceiling repeatedly until a hole melts in it. By the time the edges of the hole have cooled down to the point where you think you can risk pulling yourself through it, the door is pretty hot too. Getting up there is pretty difficult, but you manage it, and then you’re in the elevator shaft and about ready to murder yourself for coming up with this idea. Now your only way to go is up, and your only way to go up is by scaling the support structure, which will take forever, and you’re going to be target practice for those destroyers when they get through the door.

Luck is with you, though, as a maintenance droid suddenly pops up a tiny shaft to the back of the elevator. The shaft is way too small for you, but this particular model of maintenance droid has very powerful thrusters. You quickly lunge forward and grab the droid and it chitters in dissatisfaction but lifts you up. It seems slow, but before long you’re approaching the next door up and you deal with it in much the same way you dealt with the roof of the elevator. It’s hard to force your left hand to release the droid, and it throws the thing off balance before it adjusts and continues upwards. It’s also awfully hard, you discover, to aim while hanging with one arm from a droid, but the thing has what looks like handles on the side, so it’s not impossible. When you try to jump through the hole you miss and catch the edge with your bare hands, and your blaster clatters against the walls below. Your hands are on fire, maybe literally, but your other option is falling to your death and maybe it would have been a better idea to just get the hell out of this system when you realized there was a battle going on. Your feet scrabble at the wall until you find the bottom of the elevator door and then you pull yourself through and what do you know, there actually are burns on your hands. At least they aren’t bleeding. Apparently the heat of your blaster softened the edges of the door enough that they weren’t sharp enough to cut you.

You can’t be worried about the burns on your hands, though, because you’re still stuck alone in a Separatist dreadnought, except now you’re short a blaster, and you’ve probably managed to piss off the tin cans. Which means if they catch you, you’re going to be shot, and not sent to some mine or prison or some place where there’s a chance of escape. You get up and run to the left because you think you hear the syncopated beat of several metal feet in the other direction. You really have no idea where an on board intercom might be. Why do separatist ships even have on board intercoms? Don’t the droids have intercoms in their heads?

You’re in luck, though, because you’re not followed and within a few minutes you run across one of those legendary on board intercoms. It’s difficult to hail the Republic command ship, what with your burned hands, but you manage it, and you scramble the signal with one of the older ones that used to be used by Jabba the Hutt’s fleet of personal smugglers. A moment later, the Jedi appears above the little hologram platform, flickering and blue. “Good, you made it out!” she says, and honestly you could punch her.

“Yeah,” you say. “Now what? I lost my blaster and if I get a new one I won’t be able to use it. In case you’re ever wondering, I highly don’t recommend grabbing the edge of a hole you just blew in an elevator door with your bare hands. That’s about the worst idea I’ve had today, and today has been filled with fucking stupid ideas.”

She winces in sympathy a little, but a moment later she’s all business again. “I’m sorry to hear that. Can you give me the frequency code for your personal intercom?”

“It doesn’t function independently,” you say. “It has to be routed through another intercom.”

She waves it off. “I know. You used a good scramble, they probably can’t hear this conversation, but as long as you’re at an on board intercom they know where you are. If you give me your frequency code then I can set it up remotely to rout through a random intercom on the ship. We can talk wherever you are and they won’t know where you are.”

Okay, that’s reasonably impressive. You rattle off the appropriate string of numbers and a minute later the hologram vanishes from the on board intercom and flickers to life on your personal. “Is it working?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say as you start to run down the hall in a random direction. “Now what?” You’re not sure when you got so gung ho about this whole engine sabotage adventure. You should probably be bargaining for some kind of protection, because the Republic will probably never see what you were smuggling, but at this rate you’re probably not going to be making the delivery and several tons of angry Gardulla the Hutt is something that you could use protection from. Sure, you can think of about four crime lords off the top of your head that it would be objectively more dangerous to cross, but she’s also desperate to make enough money to not have to bow and scrape to Jabba’s every whim. Desperation and Hutts is not a pretty recipe.

“Now you’re gonna want to get to the port side hangar, take out the landing control droid, and open the pressure shield to empty out the hangar.”

You stare at her for a good four or five seconds. “What?” you ask.

“I don’t believe for a second that you didn’t hear me,” she says. “I don’t fancy having battle droids poking all over my ship, and it’s so much easier to just let them all get sucked out into space than take them all out one by one.”

“Your ship? You’re coming over here?”

“Well yeah,” she replies. “You told me you don’t know anything about the engine, and I could walk you through it, but this is important, so I’d rather do it myself. Besides, your hands are burned.”

You shake your head. “Okay. How do I get to the port side hangar?”

“Well, I don’t know where you are, so I can’t really give you directions.” Suddenly, her face lights up. “Oh! I know. Hold on!” There’s a pause, and a clone half appears in the peripheral of the hologram. You can hear the hum of their voices, but you can’t make out the words. Finally, she turns back to you. “Okay, unless you’re on the bridge, which I seriously doubt, you’re going to want to take a left, then a right, then head straight ahead for about three hundred meters. The hangar command room is on the next level up, but don’t worry. There will be stairs. You don’t have to worry about the elevators.”

It’s pretty clear that they did a life form scan of the ship, which turned up two life forms; the commander on the bridge, and you. “Got it,” you say. “If I don’t die in the next few minutes, I guess I’ll see you when you get over here.” It doesn’t occur to you until after you’ve ended the transmission that you still don’t have a weapon, which means your options are pretty much limited to tackling the droid to the ground and hoping there aren’t others.

This option turns out to be unexpectedly effective. The droid turns around as you enter the command center. You both hit the ground. It drops its blaster. You both scramble for the blaster, and you get there just ahead of the droid and blow its head off, which in hindsight was a stupid idea at such close range. There are little holes burnt in your clothes where hot bits of shrapnel hit them and your skin stings. But a quick sweep of the small room reveals no other droids, and you scramble to the controls and drop the pressure shield. The hangar is emptied in seconds, droids, ships, and tools flying out into the battle still raging outside. Doors slam shut automatically and klaxons start blaring. After a few minutes you put the pressure shield back up and then pick up your confiscated blaster and face the open door of the room. Any minute now - yup, right on schedule.

A few droids round the corner, blasters at the ready. Your hands are still burnt, but you know what you’re doing with a blaster and three droids just aren’t that much of a challenge. The next challenge, of course, is destroyers. You would run as soon as you heard the tell-tale rattling of them rolling toward you, but there isn’t really anywhere to run to. You resort to dodging haphazardly and shooting at the droids despite their shields. This isn’t working, and you wonder where the hell the Jedi is.

Your question is answered in a few seconds as a fighter, followed by two escorts, swoops down into the hangar. The escorts peel off and go to rejoin the battle or something and the fighter lands elegantly. A moment later the hood pops open and the Jedi you’d talked to before lifted herself out. She glanced around and saw you almost at once, then leapt up inhumanly high toward you. A flash of green and suddenly the glass separating the command station and the hangar bay is gone and then she’s right there, larger than life, blocking blaster bolts with a bright green lightsaber. She works her way closer to the droids and then the shields, which are meant to stop a high-velocity blaster bolt and not an almost casually strolling Jedi Knight, are suddenly obsolete. She turns back to you, extinguishing the lightsaber, and grins. “Nice job!” she says.

“Thanks, I think,” you say. You’re still not sure how you got dragged into this. You release the blaster and let it dangle loosely from one hand, giving your sore palms a break. “Now what?”

“This way!” she says, and sets off down the halls. You wonder if she memorized the layout of the ship, because it’s clear that she knows exactly where she’s going. You’re completely lost by the time she arrives at a door that’s shut tight and won’t open. “Keep an eye out for droids,” she tells you, and then presses the end of her lightsaber up against the door and activates it. “This could take a few minutes.”

You turn around and scan the hall behind you, but oddly enough there aren’t any droids approaching. You wait for forty or fifty nervous seconds before you point this out to her. “I think this might be a trap,” you say. “They aren’t trying to stop us.”

“Of course it’s a trap,” she says. “But I haven’t got any better ideas. Have you?”

You don’t, so instead of responding, you merely turn back to the hallway and watch. It’s not long after that when the Jedi manages to cut a round hole in the door and knocks the center piece out. “Come on!” she says, and jumps through the hole. You follow her, careful to avoid the edges, and find yourself in a really big room. You’re not sure what you expected out of the engine room of a ship this size, but this isn’t exactly it. The Jedi - you really ought to find out what her name is - knows exactly where she’s going. She walks straight to what looks like a console in the center and starts to punch in commands. She grunts in frustration. “It’s passcode protected. Damn.” She looks up, glancing around the room, and then sets out along a walkway to her right. You follow her, unsure of what else to do.

She stops and holds out her hand, and some component or other comes floating toward her. But no sooner has it touched her hand than you hear someone clearing her throat behind you. You both whip around, and the Jedi drops whatever she was holding and whips out her lightsaber. You raise your blaster and take a step back towards your unexpected companion. You aren’t sure who this person is, but you figure it’s probably better to let a Jedi tangle with her. She’s tall, seems to be some species you’ve never heard of before, and there are two lightsabers on her belt.

“Asajj Ventress,” the Jedi Knight says, and her voice is cold and all the former excitement and friendliness is gone. “I didn’t expect this pleasure. Whose idea was it to put you in charge of a ship?”

“It seems I’m at a disadvantage,” the woman called Asajj says, and her voice is even colder than the Jedi’s. “You know who I am, but I’ve never heard of you before.” Suddenly her lightsabers are in her hands and she’s crouched, ready to pounce. “Still, a dead Jedi is a dead Jedi.”

You decide to move the hell away from them before they start swinging those concentrated beams of plasma around. As of yet, Asajj Ventress has shown absolutely no interest in you, and you’re happy to keep it that way. Even as you retreat as quickly and subtlety as possible, suddenly both women move. Asajj leaps up and forward, coming down on the Jedi from above, and she rolls forward, removing herself from the path of the twin lightsabers and swinging hers up behind her to block the impending strike.

You’ve seen less impressive imitations of lightsaber battles on the holonet, and a few quick shots of actual fights caught by security cameras, but you can honestly say you’ve never seen anything like this before, and damn is it impressive. It’s clear to see, though, that the Jedi Knight is catering to Asajj’s style. All the bouncing off of walls and bits of the engine and of course the fact that the pale woman has twice as many lightsabers seem to be making things difficult for her. And that’s just before the Force shoves come into play. They’re nowhere near evenly matched until your Jedi decides to insist on fighting in her own style. She comes to rest on the walkway close to the center of the room and then waits for Asajj to come to her and strikes out at the other woman every time she comes close. As a general rule, holding still in a fight isn’t a great idea, but she makes it work.

You reluctantly tear your attention away from the fight happening because you remember that there’s still a battle going on outside, and making the Republic like you is probably a good idea. Plus, maybe, just maybe, if something goes wrong with the engine, then the creepy lady will leave. Or get distracted long enough for you to leave. You turn back and find the component that your Jedi was holding when Asajj arrived. It’s attached to the rest of the engine with some kind of hose and it had swung back away from the walkway when she’d dropped it. You don’t have the advantage of the Force to get it back, and even if you did, you have no idea what your Jedi intended to do with it. The mantra of the day has been shooting at your problems, so you decide it can’t possibly hurt to try again. The thing goes up in a miniature explosion as soon as your blaster bolt finds it and both lightsaber-wielding women turn to look at you. You’re pretty sure this isn’t a good thing.

With a snarl Asajj assaults the Jedi, who barely manages to parry and loses the sure footing she’d established on the walkway. You don’t see what happens to her after she tumbles off, and you don’t quite care, either, because now Asajj is stalking toward you. Not running, and her lightsabers are down, although you’ve seen her fight and you know they can be up again in the blink of an eye. You slowly back away, and then for a moment you’re quite sure that moving to the right is the absolute best course of action. Your instincts have never failed you before, so you jump to the right and a moment later there’s a humming red blade where you were. Then you dodge backwards, skip forward and throw yourself into a roll and you don’t need to look to hear the blood-red blades slicing the air where you were a moment ago. You’re dimly aware of klaxons and other, similar noises as you whip around and somehow know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is no way you can dodge the next attack. You’ve learned your lesson about firing at enemies at this range, so instead of attempting to fire the blaster you’re still holding you try to hit her with it. She slices it in half with a snarl and you yank your right arm back just in time to keep it intact. Then, without really even knowing what you’re doing, you shove your left hand forward and she stumbles back half a step, a look of shock and renewed anger on her face. It’s the tiniest, most pitiful shove, but still awfully impressive considering you didn’t actually touch her.

Before you have time to know more than that you should be reacting, moving, running, dodging, something, she sends a push of her own at you and it’s much harder and you fall backwards onto the walk. Then she’s standing over you, red blade humming at your throat. “You have potential,” she says, and that’s about the last thing you expected her to say. Potential for what? Why aren’t you dead? Insert ten thousand other questions you’d like to ask but aren’t going to here, except it’s more like three, not ten thousand. You don’t quite have the brain power for ten thousand right now.

“But of course she couldn’t be bothered to tell you that, could she?” It’s pretty obvious who “she” is, and you’re more confused than ever. Not really. You know exactly what the woman is talking about and you’ve suspected for a couple of months, but hadn’t bothered to give it much thought. It’s not like you would ever have the opportunity to get proper training.

“She didn’t know that,” came the Jedi’s voice. When did she get back up on the walkway? “I don’t probe everyone I meet for Force potential.” You think she might be talking to you more than Asajj, pleading for something, but your mind is foggy and you’re not entirely sure what it is that either woman wants.

“But even if she did, her precious Council would never take you. They’re very selective.” The scorn in her voice is palpable and terrifying and you’re still confused. That’s still a state of mind that you are having. “But I will.”

Oh.

You almost want to laugh. There’s so much still that you don’t understand, but you think you’re starting to get the big picture. She’s watching you closely and you think you’ve figured out where some of the fog in your head is coming from. Your voice is strained when you finally respond. “How about you clear the fuck out of my head and then we’ll talk.”

For a moment you’re sure she’ll bring the saber down and take you out, but she doesn’t. She snarls. “If you want what I’m offering, you’ll get used to it. You can have anything you want. Power, wealth, followers.” A slow smile spreads across her face. “Safety. The Jedi won’t offer you any of that. They’ll give you a Force suppression chip and their good will.” You didn’t think her voice could get more derisive, or her face could twist into an expression of even more disgust.

It seems like a really good idea, actually. You could learn to use the Force, maybe get a lightsaber out of the bargain. No one said you have to stay with Asajj after you’ve gotten what you need. Gardulla the Hutt can send as many bounty hunters as she pleases after you. Even a rudimentary knowledge of the advantage you have would be more than any of them could handle. You could finally quit hauling spice and other things that would land you in prison if they were found and do something you actually want to do. The possibilities are suddenly as endless as they were when you were just a little kid, before your brother beat the hopes and dreams out of you. There are archaeological digs in the Corellian system. You could finally find some time to actually practice on the red ball organ. And the only thing you need to do, to get all that...

“Sweet,” you say. You’re not an idiot. You know she’s going to be expecting you to help her with some kind of dark plot she has brewing somewhere, or maybe coordinate efforts against the Republic. But you’re clever. You’ve always had to be. You’ll cross that bridge when yo come to it, and she won’t know what hit her. “Sounds great. When do we start?”

She smiles, satisfied, and extinguishes the lightsaber. You get up and look around. Somehow, the Jedi managed to make her way back onto the narrow catwalk and she’s standing a few yards away. You think she might be upset by what she’s seeing, but her brow is creased in determination and as you watch, her lightsaber springs to life in her hand.

“Right now,” Asajj says, and then the icy handle of one of her lightsabers is pressed into your hand and she’s in your head again, but this time she isn’t taking, she’s giving, showing you how to use the lightsaber and the Force and feeding you from a pool of rage at the Jedi in front of you. Your own lightsaber flickers awake in your hand and suddenly you’re flying toward the Jedi, Asajj - your Master - just behind you and you’re moving much like she does but not quite the same and with a thrill you realize that it’s a combination of her style and your own. You come falling toward the Jedi like a red blaster bolt and she raises her weapon to clash against yours. She has more skill than you, even with your Master’s help, but you have the advantage of having studied her style already, while yours is similar enough to Asajj’s to throw her. You can shadow what your Master would have done and then turn and leave her blocking a blow that never falls, that was never going to fall, while you slip in her undefended side. Prediction is not her strong suit. Each time you slip past her defenses, she evades you by scurrying backwards or blocking at the last possible second. She has no idea what you’re going to do and the sudden power you have over her fills you with glee.

Then your Master joins the fight and if it was difficult for her to defend against two lightsabers before, two lightsabers wielded by two different people is a whole new world for her. After a scant few minutes of fending off both your blows, she realizes she has no hope of defeating you and does the only smart thing she can - she runs. You both pursue, but she’s fast and hard to follow. You realize that she’s not heading back to the hangar she parked her fighter in, and with good reason. The whole ship is shaking as the engine trembles under duress it can no longer withstand. Klaxons scream and droids chitter in panic as they run past, and at some point your Master realizes that you have to get off the ship before it’s destroyed by the Republic or its own engine. She beckons to you and heads down a hallway and you somehow know that she’s leading you back to the hangar you initially crashed in, not for your wrecked ship, but for her own vessel. And you follow her, out of the slowly deteriorating wreck of your old life and toward the glory of your new life.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a weird combination of things I researched way too much and things I didn't research at all. 
> 
> Some random trivia - Gardulla the Hutt was actually a subordinate of Jabba the Hutt for a while, after she lost everything except for some of her slaves at gambling. I couldn't find exact dates, but I think it was during the Clone Wars. (Wookieepedia needs to step up their game. I want _dates_ , people. Okay I'm kidding, but it would be nice.)
> 
> The XS stock light freighter's schematics heavily inspired its successor, the YT-1000 light freighter, which in turn heavily inspired its own successor, the YT-1300 light freighter, which is the class of ship that the _Millenium Falcon_ was.
> 
> The spice I kept on mentioning would be spice illegally smuggled from Kessel, which is, incidentally, the same cargo Han Solo dumped that got him in trouble with Jabba the Hutt. Primarily because I'm not creative. It's like the Star Wars version of LSD with telepathy thrown in as a cool bonus.
> 
> Okay, that's enough trivia. Now, down to the technicalities of this particular story. I initially didn't intend for Dave to be Force sensitive, or to include Asajj Ventress, but then she came stalking onto the scene with Dave's apparent Force sensitivity in tow and informed me that she was staying. I actually thought she was kind of an annoying villain in the TV show, but I liked her in the books, so I hope I captured her correctly. Her motivations seem weird now, but they're there and will be revealed later. Here's a hint. This takes place a few months before Palpatine ordered Dooku to have Asajj killed. I'm making up my own story about why.
> 
> (Oh, and as a general rule of thumb for this and any other Star Wars stories I may post, I'm still accepting the Legends universe as canon. Primarily because I'm lazy and prefer to steal someone else's worldbuilding, but also because it's really cool and I like it. Also I'm very used to it.)
> 
> I based Dave and Jade's "specialities" in the Force on their God Tier abilities. If you look closely, many Jedi seem to have aspects of the Force that they are better at than others, or at least prefer. For example, we don't see anyone use a mind trick as often, as casually, or with as much success as Obi-Wan. In fact, the only other people we ever see even attempting it are Qui-Gon (from whom he probably learned it), and Luke (who probably learned it from him). Anyway, Dave's speciality would be short term premonitions, which I think would be an easily disguised talent that would be often written off as mere instincts, which would explain why he lived most of his life without noticing it. Jade's was a little harder to pin down, but I finally decided on the ability to sense people in the Force and perhaps enhance her own speed and physical endurance, as well as the obvious telekinesis stuff.
> 
> Also, Jade's lightsaber style is mostly adapted from what is shown to be her fighting style in canon. Picking out her fighting style was difficult, given Homestuck's nature. She does a lot of standing still and shooting, though, and even when she starts primarily using her Space powers, the only time she's shown to be terribly active in her fighting is when she's hunting John. As long as her enemies come to her, she tends to just stand and wait for them to come at her. Which makes sense, since she learned to fight with a gun. Holding still with a sword is generally a bad idea, but running with a gun is generally a worse idea.
> 
> Now, on to the boring technical detail that I like to flatter myself you're asking. When will this be updated? I have no idea. It was supposed to be a oneshot and I think I left it at a place where it can wait a bit, anyway. I have a novel and several other fanfics that are taking precedence over it right now. Anyway, this is a lot of notes. I probably should not have typed so much.


End file.
